Under My Skin
by Aleka
Summary: slash, MP..Pippin gets what he wants from Merry, but doesn't know if it's real. Not real heavy slash--I chickened out


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[Author's Note: I don't really know _when _or _where_ this takes place, but I felt like some good old slashy yumminess, and this is what happened.]

He's under my skin.

Feeling the hotness of his laboured, carnal breathing against my face in between the spaces of stolen kisses, I long to pull him into me. Whenever he moves, I'm afraid that he will leave me because this can't be real, this is too right to truly be in my life. But the moments skip along in time with our heartbeats, and every second that ticks brings him closer and more mine. 

Rain drips softly from the trees high above us, untouchable but protective. It's an intoxicating mixture of the heaven-blessed raindrops as well as the salty sweat of passion that slicks his body and graces my fingertips as he guides my hand. He is painted perfect with the distracted smile that I capture with my lips and the lost but found glimmer of everything good that glimmers in the blue eyes looking straight into me. He is absolutely perfect. And perfection is loving me. 

I'm in love and I'm going over the brink. It's almost too real for me to feel. _Oh, please if you're really here_, I frantically _plead_ in my mind, and even there in my thoughts I cannot catch my breath. _Please I love you, my own, love me back--_

A soft touch takes the place of my silent prayers. His thumb gently placed upon my chin, he turns my face up towards him. I blink. Is this it, or did I close my eyes too soon? Have I missed the chance to be complete? 

"Look at me," he says, with the omnipresent tender growl in his voice that has always made me want him more.

"I've never stopped," I respond faintly. Everything about him is against my will so I can't stop the tears. This is the first time that he has looked back when I looked at him. Tears sought my eyes but his lips erase them as they fall. I want so badly to tell him how beautiful he is, how beautiful he makes me, but the words die on my tongue. I want to tell him over, and over, and over, that I love him, but my mouth fails. Everything I mean to say merely comes out in the form of a kiss. 

The taste of unnamed sweetness lingering on my lips, I see the reflection of fairy tales and dreams and wishes in his eyes; aged fantasies that are only now just meeting each other. My world and his heaven collide and entangle in his brazen hands as they graze my skin, dominating me, burning me, finishing me…

I am becoming everything I have ever wanted when he looks at me. A boldness grows hard in both of us. His lips are creeping down my torso and my hands are lost in his ginger curls. Afraid that my voice will make this disappear, I speak anyway. "What are you doing?" I ask. 

His words tremble. He is unsure, and it is one of the only times I have ever seen him in this state. But somehow, even through his uncertainty, I feel and see confidence everywhere about him. He knows as well as I do that I will never stop him; I would never refuse him. He gulps nervously, his eyebrows raised and his eyes shining. "Anything you want."

I drag my thumb across his cheek. "Well, you'll have to surprise me, because what I want is you."

His devil-may-care grin surfaces immediately and I cannot believe how far-gone I am. I am drowning in him, and he is my lifesaver. "You want me, do you?" he chuckles. "I can't very well do myself, you know. Anything else you might have in mind?"

I giggle, shaking my head. "Well…"

With feather-softness, his finger skims my thigh. I want to squirm at his touch, but he has a knee on either side of me and I am trapped beneath him. How can I be so moved when I'm so still? "Well, what?" he murmurs, never much one for patience. 

"I know maybe it's wrong," I tell him feebly. "I know that no one would understand this. I'm sick of caring about the things that don't matter and I'm ready to start caring about the only thing that _does_. I only, I wish…I want you to love me."

A shadow of confusion falls across the blue of his eyes. "You're a fool, you know that?"

I am hurt. I am embarrassed, and I wish I could hide from him right now, but I cannot stop him from seeing all of me. "Why am I a fool? I've never been a fool to you. What did I do?"

"You do not have to want me to love you," he says gruffly. "You don't know that I love you always? When I love you, it is not about _want_. It is about _need_."

My body responds, and he knows it. His head dips down and my head tilts back.

To touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed, to be so loved that I could feel it in every nerve of myself, to be so naked that I never wanted to hide again--I never knew I wanted so much. I never knew he could give so much. 

I am almost in tears as he begins to send me amongst the stars. I see nothing but fireworks painting a canvas behind my eyes with every colour that he is. 

Erupting, I cannot stop myself from crying out his name.

Even though he is no longer there. 

"Merry!" 

Pippin shot up, torn out of sleep. Sweat glistened off his forehead and his breathing was shallow and rushed. He had kicked off his thin blanket during the night, but he was too hot. 

He brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs, and began to sob angrily. It wasn't supposed to be like this. _He _wasn't supposed to be like this. 

"Pip?" whispered his cousin Merry, as he rolled over onto his side to look blearily at Pippin. His own blanket was drawn up to his chin. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing--" he sputtered, glancing around, humiliated and hoping he hadn't woken up the others, especially Aragorn. Aragorn didn't sleep much, but when he was woken up, he certainly wasn't a very enjoyable man to be around. "I just, I--I had a dream."

"Don't you think you're a bit too old to be having nightmares?" Merry teased. With a caring, mocking smile, he sat up and patted his cousin's arm. "What was it about?"

"You," he said before he could stop himself. 

Merry giggled. "I can see why you're scared."

Silence grew in the dark beside him, and it worried Merry. He waited for Pippin to respond, and then asked, "Are you all right, Pip? Why are you crying?"

He shrugged, looking very much like a child. 

Then Merry laughed softly. "How in middle earth did you manage to spill something on the front of your pants while you were sleeping?"

Pippin looked down at himself. Then he cursed everything cursable and blurted, "Erm, it was an owl."

"You spilled an owl on yourself?"

"Yes."

"All right," he said slowly. "Well, I'm going back to sleep. You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Merry," he murmured. 

"Glad to hear it. Goodnight, Pip."

"Goodnight."

"Pip?"

"Yes?"

"I'm here."

Fresh tears warmed his face. "I know."

Merry turned onto his other side and closed his eyes even though he knew that sleep would be as impossible as it had been in the previous hours. When he heard Pippin begin to snore, he opened his eyes and just studied him. A careless curl caressed his forehead, and his lips were parted softly, his tongue occasionally moistening them in a maddeningly teasing way. The pale moon touched Pippin's creamy skin, creating a glow of irresistible innocence. He slipped a hand into Pippin's.

Merry knew it was wrong but it felt right. There was no place he'd rather be. He would hurt and he would bleed until he was under his skin. 


End file.
